The Caged Bird Sings
by beautifuldisaster14
Summary: Everyone always wants what they can't have. But for Draco, that phrase is all too real. He hates Hermione. Just for the very fact that she lives and breathes in the new world that Voldemort has created. She's dirty, flawed, and expendable. But what she doesn't know, is that the most prominent reason he despises her, is because she cannot be touched, but only looked at.
1. Chapter 1

**(Hey guys! I'm sorry I've been gone for so long. School will be the death of me, I swear it. Anyway, I know y'all are probably wondering about 'Beautiful Lies', and I promise you, I haven't forgotten it! I know where I wanna go with it, now it's just a matter of writing it down. And unfortunately, B&W and Easiest Prey are gonna be canceled. I'm sorry, I just don't have the passion or urge to write on them like I do with 'Lies' and this new one. OHHH, and by the way, this is my very first Dramione fanfic, so please, be nice. If you like fluff, then you might be in the wrong place. This story is intended to be very dark. Anyway, please lemme know what you think. :D xxxxx)**

(Back round):

(After the Battle of the Department of Ministries, Voldemort gained the upper hand during the summer of 1997. Once it was discovered that Harry had given himself to the Dark Lord in an apparent sacrificial meeting, everything ended and darkness reigned. Death Eaters roamed nearly every inch of the wizarding world and Hogwarts was forever changed. Anyone less than a Halfblood, and every one of Harry's supporters were killed on spot, or, if they lowered themselves to the point of praising Voldemort, they were spared their life and sent to work as slaves for his supporters and Death Eaters of all kinds. This didn't sit well with everyone, especially with both Ron and Hermione, two of Harry's most trusted and close friends. A year after Voldemort's decree went in place, they, along with Ron's whole family, gathered a small rebellion and attempted a attack on the newly formed Ministry of Magic. Tragically, they were decimated within minutes, and the only two that came out alive were both Hermione and Ginny. They were both auctioned off in the most humiliating ways; Ginny went to serve the Zabini family, and Hermione, the Malfoy's. Several years later, only Draco, his wife Astoria, and their son Scorpius were the only living members of the Malfoy name. They lived in the most exquisite penthouse in the most secret part of London. Hermione, of course, lives with them, and is the main caretaker of Scorpius. This is her unfolding story.)

**Stop. Wait a second...and read this.**

**Carefully.**

**Do you like happy-go-lucky stories?**

**And romances?**

**And happy endings?**

**If you do, then this isn't the story for you. You should probably exit through the back door.**

**This story is anything but.**

**It includes the worst possible nightmares anyone could imagine.**

**In a world where evil rules, and there is no good.**

**BUT...**

**If you enjoy dark, violent, and angsty stories...**

**Then carry on.**

**Be careful not to loose yourself.**

**That is all. **

** Chapter 1: The Mockingbird**

_ "From the deepest desires, often comes the deadliest hate." -Socrates_

I really don't get it. How can two people yell and scream at each other so much, and yet, stay together? I mean, I can literally _hear _them from up here, the last room on the corridor of the third floor.

"Why are you out so late all the fucking time?!"

"What? _I'm _out late? Draco, it's barely past midnight! Stop letting paranoia fill your head! It's utterly irritating!"

A harsh, unforgiving laugh.

Then more screaming.

….And more.

Was that a vase shattering that I just heard?

And then...

Silence.

Hm...interesting. I wonder what happened between them this time. It was _always _something. And even if it started off as a small riff, it always turned into the biggest, most dramatic thing you could ever imagine.

Or that's how it had appeared to me lately, anyway.

It had been getting worse lately. Ever since Draco had been ordered to 'deal' with a band of rebelling Purebloods north of Oxford.

Yes, there were still pockets of them. Rebels. Determined to strike down Voldemort at his very core...the Ministry.

It was simply impossible, though.

Like trying to kill a raging, wild lion with nothing more than a plastic spoon.

I would know, too.

The day was still all to real in my mind. The day that Ron and I had planned since Voldemort himself had taken over. Ultimately, though, we underestimated everything and failed...Ron and everyone in his family paying the greatest price.

That's what still rips me apart inside. Knowing that their lives were ended in the blink of an eye. No time to hug each other, to hold each other, or to say goodbye.

Gone. Like they were nothing but dust.

Except for Ginny, that is. She was spared...God knows why, and sent to serve that snake Zabini and his family at the same time I was sent here.

I hadn't seen her in so many years...psh, who knew if she was still alive.

That thought made a thick lump form in my throat and I gasp and heave, trying to relieve the pressure, but it intensifies, and the only thing to relieve it is heavy, heartbroken sobs into my pillow.

I know that it's really not, but sometimes, I can't help but feel that their demise is my fault. If I had never given the idea to Ron, things could still be as they were supposed to be. None of us would be happy living in a contorted world, but...at least we would have had each other to have and to lean on when things would just be too horrible.

I'd still have Ron.

And I'd still be able to stare into blue sapphires whenever I wanted to.

That simple fact makes the tears stream heavier and faster down my face, and I squeeze the fabric of my pillow in between my fingers.

Five years later, and he's still all I can think about. And he's the only thing that bring me the slightest bits of happiness when I see him in my dreams.

He never stays very long. It's more of a lingering, really. His figure will pop up in the back of my mind, and appear ever so faintly in the unfolding scene. Sometimes, he smiles, and other times, he simply looks at me softly, without ever saying a word.

And then he's gone, almost like he never was.

When I wake up that next morning, I'm pulled back into my own personal hell.

I flip around onto my back and stare at the ceiling.

What would they think, if they saw me like this? Answering to every order like a dog?

Shaking that thought of my head instantly, my eyes close shut.

…...

Waking up by myself is the worst thing in the world. I loathe it more than anything.

There's no noise coming from downstairs. Both of them must already be gone for the day.

Sighing heavily, I sit up in the bed and run a hand through my messy, overly frizzy hair.

I probably look like a feral beaver right now.

A smirk crosses my lips at the thought and I throw the covers back, stand up, and saunter into the bathroom. The mirror is definitely not my friend right now.

My clothes shed themselves off my body as I quickly slip into the shower, then turn the knob to the right a bit as warm water envelops me.

It's sad and almost pitiful that I never want to step out.

Bloody _bathing _myself is better than simply living every day in this house.

Eventually though, a faint yelling enters my ears and I groan, then turn the knob back to the right.

"Hermione...? What are you doing?"

It's Scorpius.

Stepping out of the shower, I grab the nearest towel and wrap it around myself before pacing into the bedroom, opening up my dresser drawers.

"I...erm, just got out of the shower, Scorp. I'll be out in a couple of minutes."

A pause...and then,

"Well, hurry up. It's boring out here."

My eyes roll in irritation, but I hurry nonetheless and quickly throw on a dull red t-shirt and pair of jeans, then slip on a pair of tennis shoes.

Opening the door a few seconds later, I'm met with a pair of liquid silver eyes.

He's the spitting image of his father, only about twenty years younger.

"Finally."

I ignore his comment and shrug, shutting the bedroom door closed behind me and follow him down the stairs.

"What's the agenda today, then?"

We pass by their house elf Poppy, and I watch her briefly clean the entryway end table as Scorpius rambles on about something or rather.

"...Didn't you hear anything I just said?"

My gaze breaks away from the elf and I turn to glance at him.

"Hmmm?"

He grumbles and then sighs as we stop at the door.

"The Ministry. Remember? I have my class today."

Oh, yes. How could I possibly forget? Scorpius' prejudice class. That had started about two years ago once he turned six.

Draco and Astoria liked to word it differently, but basically, it was a class that brainwashed Pureblood young into believing that anyone less than them was inferior and not worthy of living in such a world. I was told that it was one of Voldemort's tactics to keep his power sustained.

It definitely worked.

And I had no choice but to escort him there myself.

The irony sickened me.

With a hesitant nod and a sigh, I latched onto his land and we both were sucked up into the familiar vacuum, only to land a few seconds later in the lobby of the Ministry.

Or, at least, I thought it was the Ministry.

It had changed dramatically over the years, and I hardly could recognize it anymore.

The tiled walls gleamed brightly with the finest of silver, the high ceiling walls were decorated with paintings and murals of Slytherin artifacts and Voldemort portraits, the windows of the multiple offices stacked on top of one another were lined with the brightest of green, and of course, that infamous statue was still sitting in the center of the lobby.

Scorpius walks directly ahead of me, and as we walk, people, both employees and strangers, pat him on the back, murmur inaudible things into his ear, and pull away before walking in the opposite direction. He loves the attention. I can just see it in his structure, especially when he walks. It's not even really a _walk _persee, it's actually more of a strut. Again, just like his father. And his grandfather. And probably his great-grandfather, too. All of the Malfoy men have that signature characteristic of arrogance about them that could drive anyone up a wall.

We stop at a set of silver doors, and I'm given a set of dirty looks by a couple of passing people before the doors open.

Mr. Dayd, director of the class, nods down at Scorpius, then glances briefly up at me.

"Good to see you, Scorp. Are you ready for today's lesson?"

I cringe involuntarily, but compose myself a milisecond later before either of them can notice, and Scorpius nods a couple of times.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Very well then. Come on in," the teacher says, and opens the doors a bit wider so that he can pass through.

I stand back and fold my arms over my chest.

"I'll be by in an hour."

Scorpius, as usual, ignores me and disappears around one of the many corners in the room. Mr. Dayd however, pauses before shutting the door and eyes me with disgust.

I can't stand his demeaning looks. He does it every single damn time I come here.

I snap, a little too harshly.

"Can I help you?"

My remark earns a cruel smirk from him, and he shakes his head and shuts the door softly.

I stand there for a few seconds, my eyes trailing the intricate design on the door before shaking my head and turning to leave.

People are talking about me. I can hear them. Clear as crystal, really.

Are they really that stupid? I'm literally _walking _past them, and I can hear my name, followed by insults, coming from their own mouths.

I pass by an older woman who's talking to a man when I catch what she's saying...

"That's Hermione Granger, you know."

"Oh. Harry Potter's friend?"

"Yes. Not anymore though."

A single, simply, yet...oddly penetrating laugh.

"Ha! Right you are, Mrs. Cawlins."

I hate being here. There's too many memories, and too many things and items...and, _thoughts _to remind me that I'm not welcome here anymore. Every stare is distasteful, hateful, and cruel. Even from the smallest of children. They're all going to end up like Scorpius, no doubt. Little spoiled children with everything handed to them on a silver platter because their all of pure blood. And they're probably taking that revolting class, too.

I stop midstep, rotating my head to look down a corridor, then back around, peering into the lobby once more.

How did it come to this?

I mean, _logically, _I _know _how this came to be...but...maybe I'm still in denial about it.

5 bloody years later, and I'm _still _thinking that this all isn't real...that maybe, I'm living in some sort of nightmare.

A never-ending nightmare.

What a stupid, naïve thought. I'm so desperate to believe that things could change.

That'll never happen.

The annoying ring of the intercom up above rocks me out of my thoughts, and I focuse attentively.

"_Attention...attention, will Hermione Granger please report to the Muggle Containment and Control offices as quickly as possible? We-"_

Oh, just lovely. And here I was, thinking that I'd be allowed to leave.

There's only _one _person in that department who'd want to spend more than 5 seconds on me.

Well, maybe _want _is too strong of a word.

Malfoy.

I can feel eyes burning into my back, and I turn around to head in the opposite direction, towards the department, and a few people watch me as I walk past them. The rebellious part of me wants to retaliate their stares with a insult, but I know better. Insulting anyone higher than you, in this world, would result in the most brutal punishment.

…...

"_Level twelve, offices of Muggle Containment and Control." _

The gates of the lift open swiftly and I step out, looking around at the cubicles that contain different men and women in the department before letting out a heavy sigh.

"Oi,"

I look to my left and a bulky, older looking man lfolded his meaty arms across his chest, giving me the most intimidating stare he could manage.

"Took you long enough to get your arse up here."

I want to snap, but instead, hold my tongue and roll my shoulders back silently. He lets me by, and I shuffle down the hallway, stopping at the last door on the right.

He's probably in there, just waiting to-

"Ahem."

My eyes slowly trail over to meet none other than Pansy Parkinson. She's looking at me as if she has just told the biggest secret. I scowl slightly, and then she returns it.

"Are you stupid? Walk in! With your feet!"

If we had still been in Hogwarts, I would have whipped out my wand right then and hexed the bint from her feet. I never could stand her, and now that she was considered above me, she never let anyone, especially me, forget it.

I swallow my bitter feelings and snap my head away. She taps her foot impatiently before someone calls her name and she storms off.

My fingers find the knob of the door and I twist it open, peering inside before slipping in and shutting the door behind me.

It's unseasonably freezing in here. My legs start to quiver and I clench my jaw in order to prevent my teeth from chattering.

I can see his backside perfectly. He's sitting behind his desk, looking down at what appeared to be a folder of papers or something. It takes a few more seconds, and a cough from me before he turns around and pierces me with stormy grey eyes.

"Are you deaf?"

My gaze hardens slightly.

"No."

"Well then, are you handicapped?"

Again with the moronic questions.

"No. Why-"

"Really? Hm," He pauses, glancing at the grandfather clock sitting oh so perfectly against the nearest window, "You were called seven minutes ago. It only takes three to get from the lobby to the floor we're located on."

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. What's he doing? Timing me now?

"I don't understand what you're trying to say."

He groans in irritation and stands to his feet, rolling back the sleeves of his shirt until I can see the Dark Mark strewn perfectly against his pale skin.

"Forget it. Scorp's in class?"

I nod once, glancing out the window.

"Yes."

"Good."

There's a few moments of silence, and then he walks towards me before clearing his throat.

"I bet you're wondering why you're here."

I rotate my head to look back at him and tilt my head out of genuine curiosity. He did have a point. I was never allowed to come up to the department. It had only happened once or twice before, and that had been at least a year ago. I guessed the reason I wasn't allowed in on a regular basis was because they were cautious about a person like me being able to sneak out information to other people. But to who? I didn't know. Anyone I _would _have told was dead.

"Well, yes, actually, I am."

Once again, there's a brief silence, and he walks up to me until he's just a foot or two away, and eyes me with something I don't recognize.

"I've been promoted."

Another pause.

And yet another one.

His eyebrows raise impatiently, like he's waiting for something.

Oh...God, is he serious? Does he really want me to-

"Don't you have anything to say, Mudblood?"

Again, my jaw muscles tighten as I try to hold back a cold remark and breathe out through my nostrils. Better to tell him what he wants to hear instead of being tortured by the Cruciatus Curse.

"Congratulations."

That annoying, stupid smirk covers his lips instantly and he pulls away, turning back around and walks back towards his desk.

"That's better. Anyway, in preparation for my promotion that is going to take place on Monday, the Dark Lord has asked me to do a favor for him. Which, obviously, I didn't hesitate in accepting..."

Blah, blah, blah. God, he's so full of himself. How could anyone put up with it?

"...And he's waiting for you in cell number four."

Shaking my head a bit, I frown.

"What?"

Another sour look paints over his face, but he slumps back down into his chair casually.

"Open your fucking ears."

Prat.

"Sorry."

"I said, the prisoner is waiting for you to retrieve him in cell block number four. After Scorpius is done with his class, go get him and bring him back to the house."

I glower and cross my arms tightly over my chest.

"...Why?"

My response causes his expression to darken dangerously and the muscles in his own jaw twitch. I know what that means.

He's trying to hold back a scream.

A moment later, his voice comes out raw and shallow.

"I'm going to pretend that I didn't just hear you question my orders. Now, get out of my sight."

_Finally. _

I was more than happy to turn on my heels and open the door of his office back open, shift out, and make my way back to the lifts without stopping to circumvent the words that were being directed at me.

The gate closes on the lift and a sudden curiousness washes over my like a bucket of cold water.

I wait, and wait some more, never getting off at any of the other floors until I reach the bottom of the Ministry and walk out.

_"Level One, Undesirable Imprisonment Facility and Court Rooms."_

It's so quiet down here. And cold...even colder than Draco's office had been.

And I know the reason for that.

As I step out, a blood churning scream fills my ears and I cringe wildly, shooting my head to either side.

And then...

Silence.

Dead...stagnant silence.

I block the images of what just happened out of my brain and compose myself, fold my arms behind my back, and glide through the tunnels, looking around at the difference cells. I don't really stop to look inside. I know that if I did, anger, and sadness too, would overtake me and I couldn't control it.

And who knows what I'd do once my emotions took over.

And then see it. A metal cut number four plastered onto a door, where two guards with cloaks on stand on either side.

I stop mid-stride and swallow heavily, taking a moment to myself, then proceed forward.


	2. The Raven

**(Hey guys. Here's the next chapter. I'd really love reviews and feedback. Because without it, I don't know how far is too far, and if I'm doing a good job or not. So please, don't be shy. xxxx)**

**Chapter**** 2: The Raven**

_"There is one quality which one must possess to win, and that is definiteness of purpose, the knowledge of what one wants, and a burning desire to possess it._"

-_Napoleon Hill_

Both of the guards' eyes are dark and menacing as I approach them. No wonder people of every status run, or attempt to run the opposite way when they come into contact with them. They're absolutely horrible looking.

I stop in front of the cell door and clear my throat, a soft squeak breaks through my lips.

"I've come to retrieve the prisoner under Mister Malfoy's orders."

One of them laughs, while the other huffs loudly and steps forward towards me and lifts his chin in a dominant manner.

"Where's the boy?"

I blink.

"He's in class. I was told to-"

"No. We were given specific orders to hand the prisoner over to Malfoy's son. Until that happens, the little git is going nowhere."

Breathing out loudly in frustration, I look down at my feet just as an idea pops into my head.

"Is there any way I could see-"

"_No. _Now, leave us alone."

Well, that didn't go how I thought it would.

I have no choice but to shrug and turn to walk away, my feet carrying me faster than I'd like, but soon enough, I find myself back in the lobby, staring at the all too familiar statue positioned directly in the center of the interior.

There's still a missing chunk of stone from where Yaxley struck it when he was chasing us after we had grabbed the locket from Umbridge and attempted to escape. I smirk and lean against the nearest wall, eyeing the door of Scorpius' classroom every so often.

It's so odd to be here without them. Harry and Ron. I mean, I come here all the time, but in the back of my mind, it's hard to forget what happened here. With them by my side, I always felt strong, and courageous, brave even. I had fought so hard for a cause that I really believed in, and strived to see the day when it would be Voldemort falling down, defeated at Harry's knees. Not the other way around. It was never meant to be that way.

The day we received news of what he'd done was the one single day that I will never, ever forget. It changed everything. Literally, _everything. _Fighting for the freedom we so desperately wanted seemed pointless after his actions. A link in our chain was gone, never to be replaced. And because he was missing, slowly, we all broke away too, in different ways and directions.

Some people were confused, so confused that they let their guard down, and that's when Death Eaters would strike and take advantage of them before ending their lives. Others, like Ginny, and Luna, the Weasley's, and probably Neville, were more sad than everything. I still remember them huddled together at the Order, letting out horrible, terrible, scarring cries that will never leave my ears. I didn't know people could sound so heartbroken until I heard Ginny screaming Harry's name for the next few nights after that.

And then there were the others...Seamus, Dean, Oliver, even Katie, who were angry. So angry that they left the group that next day, and we never saw them again. Still, to this day, I wonder if they're out there somewhere. I hope to God they are.

There were various stages that Ron and I went through, but I think the biggest thing for me was denial. We both didn't believe it at first, but Ron eventually broke three days after the news. I found him weeping in his room in the afternoon, and I held him, talked to him, and cried with him for so many hours. We fell asleep together, and when I woke that next morning, that's when it really hit me. That Harry was gone. He was just..._gone_, and there was nothing I could do or think of to fix it, or bring him back. I remember scowering through bookshelves upon bookshelves, throwing down all kinds of potion and spells books, opening them and scanning for anything that could potentially, somehow, bring him back to life. I was so wrapped into the idea, that I caught myself yelling at anyone that told me it wasn't possible. That is was pointless...I didn't want to believe it.

It wasn't Ron to pull me out of from my searching, but it was Molly. Poor Molly. I knew, that behind that strong, emotionless shell, her heart was shattered, too. She considered Harry to be just another son, as did Arthur. And now, they didn't just have to deal with their own levels of grief, but they had their own children, especially Ron and Ginny, who were too full of anguish to even function properly. Nevertheless, it was her that forced me to stop, yet she did it in the softest, most sensitive way possible. Her words were filled with a mix of hope, yet doubt. I knew it was hard, even for her, to be positive about such things. That was the first time I had ever seen her actually break down...and cry. Right in front of me. I think that's the first time I had felt real, true fear. Here were the adults, ones who were just as passionate, if not more so than us about the cause, and they didn't know what to do next.

Acceptance, in general, is such a hard thing for me to adjust to. But, I remember the night when I finally broke and realized that Harry was forever gone. It had to be past midnight, and I was standing at the window in Ron's room, looking out at the snow falling heavily and quickly. It was so thick that you couldn't see the other side of the street. Ron had been looking through an old photo book that he had found in one of the other rooms, and had just mentioned Sirius to me. At first, I smiled, remembering that man and godfather that Harry had adored so much. Then, just a second later, a deep, creased frown found my lips. Sirius had been gone for just a short amount of time, and now Harry had left us to join him. He had been ended by the very monster who had killed his parents, and now him...all of him had departed from the world that we were still stuck in. He was...nonexistant.

And that's when I peaked...when all my emotions...confusion, hurt, anger...but most of all, sorrow poured out of me like a broken faucet. Ron was at my side by the time I had opened my eyes, and I just fell into him and cried until I literally felt dry and couldn't cry no more. I think I had fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember seeing was golden sunlight flooding the room, and Ron's warm, bulky arms wrapped tightly around me. I still thank God that I had him in my life after it happened, even though I lost him, too.

I had kept a hold of who I was, what I believed in, and my sanity until I lost Ron. Everything I had ever known crumbled around in front of me, and I completely lost myself in the entirety of what I was. It was only seconds, but it was enough. Seeing him, laying motionlessly, like a statue on the ground, that's when I lost grip.

My Ron...my beautiful Ron had been ripped away from me. My protector, my best friend...my lover was just as nonexistant as Harry was.

His blue eyes could never sparkle again.

I could never see his stupid, goofy smile that would spread across his face at his own jokes.

And his laugh...oh, his laugh. It kept me calm and collected.

I still miss it.

Hell, I miss everything about him. I never knew it could hurt so much to loose someone, much less, a part of yourself.

Yeah, when Ron died, I died, too.

The brave, witty, smart, cunning part of me. I don't even know how to be that girl anymore.

And I don't want to try.

….Why did I get to live? And all my loved ones were murdered?

Why couldn't have I _died with them?! _

It's what I bloody wanted! And still want!

What is so damn special about me? I'm a Mudblood, for crying out loud! They despise my kind...what possible use could I have?

Can someone tell me that?

Anyone?

_Anyone at all?! _

Stop it.

I shake my head, trying to control my thoughts.

_**Ginny. Screaming. Torn away from grip. Taken away by merciless men.**_

….No.

_**Imagine what she's used for. Anything that Blaise Zabini wants her to be.**_

No, no...this has to cease.

_**Slave.**_

_** A toy.**_

_** A lover. **_

"_Stop it!" _

...It's quiet. Too quiet.

My eyes open, and I notice everyone in the lobby staring directly at me, flabbergasted and dumbfounded looks strewn across their faces.

I try to catch my breathe, and my heart beats steadily against my chest.

My cheeks are burning. They're probably the color of a tomato by now.

I place my hands on the sides of my cheeks and stride closer towards the door, wishing more than anything that it would open.

And magically, just a few moments later, it does, and children of all different ages come storming out, pushing me out the way as usual. I ignore their motions and watch Scorpius casually walk out and places a folder in his armbag. He looks up at me and raises an eyebrow.

"What's the matter with you?"

I lower my hands and attempt to play off a confused look. It probably won't work.

"What do you mean?"

"You look like you just ran a bloody race."

I shrug as we both start off towards the lifts

"Oh, well, I'm just a little on the exhausted side. I didn't get much sleep last night."

As usual, he ignores my comments and walks ahead of me, stopping at the first lift to the right and steps in, his expression turning impatient as he waits for me.

"Well...?"

I frown, then step in beside him, casually folding my arms.

"You know what we're doing?"

He nods a couple of times, watching the lift descend.

"Yes. Father told me this morning about the plan."

Grimacing, I shift my weight and tilt my head silently.

Why am I always the last one to find out everything?

The lift tops, and we hear the familiar robotic voice announcing the floor we land on, and step out. Scorpius straightens his tie and collar, before a wicked smile spreads across his face, and I follow him out into the tunnels.

"Do you know what we're going to do with the prisoner, Mudblood?"

A part of me wants to burst out laughing at his jab. A child just called me Mublood. They sure start them younger and younger...that stupid damned class.

"Uh, no. Do I want to know?"

Another smirk, and then a shrug, but he remains quiet. His strides became farther and farther apart, and I practically have to jog to keep up with him. We both reach the same cell I was at earlier, and he turns his head to both of guards, who are looking down at him now. Who knows what features hide behing their masks?

"Ah, it's the young Malfoy boy."

"Yes, it is. How are you doing today, Scorpius?"

` Scorpius, in return, smiles widely and clasps his hands behind his back.

"Pretty good. Now, where's the boy?"

My eyes instantly widen upon hearing his words.

Boy?

...Boy?

As in, a child?

I had had experience with seeing children being discriminated against in the past 5 years. It was no doubt the worst thing I could have imagined seeing. Voldemort's followers were ruthless, and merciless. And my cries and pleads to make them stop were ignored, and then I would be punished for creating a scene. But I couldn't help it. These weren't regular witches and wizards who were wandering the streets late at night. These were children that they were targeting. Little boys and girls sitting outside their homes, or walking down the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, minding their own business. And then...they'd be ruined. Or scarred. Simply with the flick of a wand.

As much as I wanted to forbid Scorpius his right to take advantage of the situation, I remembered that there, in this world, I was no one of authority. I was below him. And if I so much as uttered one single negative word or phrase, pain would become an all too familiar visitor again.

He's calling me inside, so I squeeze past the two towering guards and fold my arms against the chill. It's so dark, I can barely see my nose, but the light from Scorpius' wand illuminates and I see his sculpted face.

He leers at me sourly before directing his wand towards the corner of the cell, and my eyes squint in concentration.

And then I see him...

It's not a boy, but a young man, older than Scorpius...maybe even around the same age as me.

His frame is slender, maybe scrawny even...

And his hair is brown and curly.

My eyes trail on him softly, and Scorpius walks up behind him, poking the tip of his wand into the boy's back.

"Move, Mudblood!"

The figure shudders ferally, but turns around, and our eyes meet instantly.

All at once, I know what he's asking.

And his lips aren't even moving.

I can see it in his eyes.

They blink wildly multiple times, then I feel my mouth fall open, words threatening to spill over at any moment.

But I force them back and spin on my heels, quickly exiting the cell and wander away from the door, wringing out my hands as Scorpius and the boy's footsteps clank behind me.

…...

The three of us apparate back to the house and Scorpius motions for him to follow down the hall. He waits a second, then starts off for him. I follow cautiously behind them, watching pity fill into Poppy's eyes as we pass her and stop down at the cellar entrance.

I can't help but feel the same.

With a shove, the young man stumbles down on the hard, cold, concrete floor of one of the cells. Scorpius, again, taunts him before slamming the door shut and brushing against my side. He disappears up the stairs and out of sight. I, on the other hand, keep my stare attached on the slowly standing boy. He coughs roughly a couple of times, and my fingers latch themselves around the bars of the gate.

I want to speak to him.

No, I _need _to speak to him. He deserves a comforting voice in the midst of what he's experiencing.

It's a shame I have no idea of what to even say.

So, the only thing that comes out is an...

"Hey.."

He doesn't even acknowledge me. His back is still turned towards the cell door, and his head is drooping. I clench my jaw and try again.

"Hey!"

_That _grabs his attention. Slowly, the boy turns around, and for the first time, our eyes meet. They're blue...not nearly as blue as Ron's were, but nevertheless, they're blue and impenetrable.

"And let me guess...you've stayed around to make fun of me just a bit more, yeah?"

I look at him sternly and shake my head.

"No, not at all. I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry."

One sharp, bitter laugh fills the interior of the cell.

"Yeah, right."

My palms dig into the bars firmly as I attempt to express my emotions.

"No, really. I really am sorry about all of this-"

"-And why should I believe you?"

"Because!," My voice raises a bit too loudly, "Because...I'm not like them...or anyone here."

He snorts, then gradually meanders over in front of me, his face still darkened by the lack of light down here.

"Oh yeah?"

I nod quickly.

"Yes. Really. I'm not like anyone here, because believe it or not, I'm like you. A Mudblood myself."

Silence.

"What's your name, then?"

"Hermione Granger."

The animosity dies down around the dead air around us, and then, he speaks.

"You're lying. Hermione Granger died in the Ministry attack years ago."

A hard snap forces through my lips.

"No! No...I'm not dead. And I'm _not _lying. What do I have to do to prove it to you?"

He lets out an exasperated sigh, then pauses.

"The lighting sucks bollocks down here."

"I know."

"Since I can't see you, tell me about yourself. Only things that Hermione Granger would know."

My lips pull into the smallest of smirks.

This'll be easy.

"My full name is Hermione Jean Granger. My first year at Hogwarts was September of 1991, where I met my two best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Voldemort gained the advantage after the battle at the Department of Ministries. And then...Harry sacrificed himself to him not long after. I lead an attack on the Ministry with Ron and a few others after some time, which resulted in their deaths, and my capture. I have two moles in the nape of my neck, my hair's curly brown, while others would call it frizzy, and I was in Gryffindor."

There's no hesitation in his voice.

"Anyone could know that."

I let out a scoff, then frown in concentration.

The last thought hits me like a lightning strike.

"My parents...they're muggles. And they're dentists. That's something that I never told anyone, except for my closest friends and loved ones."

"Hmm..."

"-And they're not alive anymore to tell anyone else, are they?!"

Oh, bugger.

That came out a lot colder than I intended it to be.

He didn't seem to care, though, or notice, because he shuffles towards me and clasps his hands around the bars, right above mine.

"I'm going to take a leap of faith and believe you."

Relief fills my stomach and I sigh, then pull away slightly. Why I care that he believes me, I don't know...but I like the feeling it brings. Someone has the audacity of taking my word to truth.

"Thank you."

Another pause. His breathing is still heavy. And then-

"What the hell are you doing here? We all thought you were killed after-"

"-I know," I state, repeating myself, "I know. I...don't know why they kept me alive...but here I am. I've been at the Manor since the uprising. Ginny...Ginny Weasley, she lived too...but I...don't know where she is now. Blaise Zabini took her after the incident and left. I haven't seen either of them since."

It's the second time in mere hours that tears are threatening to spill over onto my cheeks. But I can't cry in front of whoever this is...I won't.

"I'm sorry for everything."

I sniffle and quickly rub my nose before nodding my head in response. He probably didn't see it, though.

"Name's Nathen. Nathen Finley."

I'm so surprised that I just stand there a second, and take note of his outstretched arm. He pulls it back in between the bars a second later and clears his throat.

"Some damn place, eh?"

For some odd reason, his comment makes me laugh, and I nod.

"Wait until you see upstairs. They're a spoiled bunch of prats."

"Yeah, I could guess by the way that little kid was walking around. He's got a lot of pride for a small guy."

Another bitter laugh, this time from myself, fills the air around us.

"That would be Scorpius...Malfoy's son."

"Ah, I didn't know Draco Malfoy had balls, yet alone to produce an heir."

I sputter out a slightly loud, stupid laugh as he follows suit and chuckles quietly. Soon enough, the laughter dies down. My eyes strain back up to his face, and then down to his build, then down towards his feet.

"What were you in the Ministry for...?"

Nathen rolls his shoulders, and I catch him lolling his head to the side.

"Oh, you know. I was stirring up a bit of trouble in Cambridge. My buddy and I were posting little fliers around the town, advertising rebellion, and, well, you can guess the rest."

My eyes widen in surprise, and slight admiration.

"Wow. That takes a lot of spine to do something like that right under their noses."

"Yeah, well, after what they did to my dad and little sister, it's hard not to act out. Impossible, really."

My curiosity gets the better of me and I ask a little too hastily.

"What happened to them...?"

There's a long, steady pause...neither one of us breaking the silence.

I wish there was light in here. If only I had a wand.

"It's a long story."

"I have time."

He lingers, then clears his throat again. I can hear the thick emotion rising in his voice.

"Eh, not now. If you come back sometime, though, I might be in a better mood to talk about it."

I frown, but nod, understanding completely.

"Alright."

"It's uh, nice to meet you, though."

"You, too."

"I'm sure as hell sorry we had to be meeting in this situation."

Pity washes over me, then I nod.

"Me, too. I wanted to-"

"-Granger!"

Astoria's whiny, high-pitched voice echoes off the dungeon walls, and I groan dramatically. Which, in turn, makes Nathen laugh.

"Duty awaits, unfortunately."

"Good luck."

I turn on my heels and step on a couple of steps before turning back around one more time towards him.

"Thanks, you too."

He doesn't say anything else, and I take it as my cue to leave, so I do. My footsteps carry me quickly into the foyer, where Astoria is. She has a glass of wine in her hand, and two women at her side, both of whom are holding numerous amounts of over the top dresses. Their faces strain with red do to the weight of the pieces of clothing, but she doesn't seem to care.

Her slim, petite form turns around and she scowls at me.

"Ah, there you are. You two," She snaps, gesturing to the two women, and then a couch, "Put those down and go make yourselves useful. The ballroom needs to be tidied. I assure with the help of the elf, you both can have everything in order for tomorrow night?"

The women, one after the other, toss the dresses onto the couch and respond in unison with a simple, "Yes Ma'am" before running off around a corner.

Then she snaps at me, motioning to the dresses, and I hurry over to the couch, sit on the edge, and pick up my first dress, attempting to smooth it out on its hanger. It's a light gold and dramatically long, with lace and the smallest of rhinestones adorning both the neckline and various parts of cloth. Although it's a bit over the top, I can't deny that it's beautiful.

Astoria then conjures a large, beige curtain and levitates it over the door, flicking her wand to the right and the curtain drags itself against the opening until it's entirely covered.

"There, much better," She compliments herself.

I want to just roll my eyes. She's not nearly as bad as Malfoy, but something about her is incredibly irritating. Maybe it's the fact that she's so materialistic.

Then, she swirls her glass before taking a sip and sitting it down on the end table next to me.

"Look at you. If you weren't so pathetically helpless, I-"

"Save your attempts at insult, Astoria."

Both of our eyes widen and I glance at the doorway. Malfoy's standing in front of the curtain, arms folded and chin raised.

It's almost unbelievable how he can just...slither in, without being noticed.

Astoria scoffs in offense and strides over to him, while pointing an accusatory finger. I snap my head away quickly, not wanting to hear another one of their arguments. Instead, I focus on a good time to go see Nathen again.

I probably shouldn't even be considering such a thing, but having someone in the house, who actually isn't slandering or disgracing me is refreshing. It's the first time in _years _that I feel excited about taking the risk to go and see someone.

Tonight would be best, when everyone's asleep. Malfoy and Astoria go to sleep pretty early on weeknights, and Scorpius has a curfew of nine. Midnight should probably work.

It was settled then, I'd go back and see him later on in the night.


	3. The Blue Jay

**(Hello. (: Sorry it's been a while. But I've been working on this over spring break so yay. Longest chapter yet, please review and enjoy! xxxx)**

** The Blue Jay  
**

"_It is easy to hate and it is difficult to love. This is how the scheme of things works. All good things are difficult to achieve; and all bad things are very easy to get."__  
_

_ -Confucius_

I can't sleep.

And I don't want to.

It has to be close to midnight, right?

I sit up in my bed and glance out the window. Moonlight is flooding in from between the blinds and spills onto the floor.

That's it. I don't care if it's midnight or not. I'm just going to go down there. Everything's been quiet for at least an hour.

Throwing back the covers, I stand up and glide towards the small desk in the corner of my room. There's a small flashlight that I had kept in one of the bottom drawers for no apparent reason other than it reminded me of the muggle world, and how I used to live.

Fortunately, no one had discovered it, because it was still siting perfectly there by itself. I smile just a bit and grab onto it, shut the drawer to the desk back closed, and ventured out into the dark, silenced corridor. There's not a single sound coming from anywhere. Which, for some reason, strikes me as odd. Even when everyone is asleep or out of the house, the clock downstairs is always ticking abnormally loud.

But tonight, not a single chime comes from it.

I don't really think anything of it and try my hardest to be as quiet as possible while walking down the staircase.

When I reach the main floor, I crane around to look down the corridor that leads to the cellar. It's as dark as can be.

With a couple of deep breaths, I move swiftly down the corridor, hearing the light snoring of the portraits on the wall, and don't stop until I reach the gate of his cell. My eyes squint in focus, and they scan around the small interior until they land on a figure in the corner. Pressing the button on the flashlight, bright streams of light gush out from the contraption and bounce off his backside. Quickly, I see him turn around, and relief flushes over his face.

"Oh, it's only you. I thought it was one of those guards attempting to teach me some kind of lesson again..."

I cloud up sourly, then gradually, Nathen walks towards me before sliding down against the bars that keep him enclosed.

"Wait," I blurted, "They...you've already encountered them? Who came down here? What did they do to you?"

He laughed softly so that it wouldn't be too loud to drift into the neighboring hallway.

"You're full of questions, aren't you? Anyway, to answer that, yeah, they came down, but didn't really do a lot. Just tried to scare me is all, really."

I found myself soon chewing on my lip as I attempted a response.

"And did they? Scare you, I mean?"

Nathen threw his head back in one, swift motion and snorted.

"No. I don't scare easily. "

"...Well, that's good."

I hear him shift around a bit to look at me, and I glance at him quickly.

"What about you? Do they scare you?"

Silence grows like a weed in between us and I can't help but look away, out towards the small barred window where the slightest bits of moonslight seep in, hitting the hard ground and illuminating it brilliantly.

How do I answer that? I don't want to come off as this weak, easily penetrable woman, but then again, God knows I'm terrible at lying.

"S...sometimes they do, yes."

He hums lightly.

"Didn't know Hermione Granger could even get scared."

I unintentionally laugh loudly and rest my head against the gate.

"Oh, if you only knew."

I could hear the smirk in his voice as he responded.

"Well, I have all the time in the world. So, go ahead. Tell me."

Breathing out deeply, my fingers wound themselves around one another and I closed my eyes, my thoughts slowly drifting back to how things were over five years ago.

"I...I don't know where to start."

I wait for a moment, and see if he responds in some way...in any way, but he doesn't. He stays quiet, which I guess, is my cue to continue.

"It really started, I mean, I really changed when the attack on the Ministry ended. Everything happened so fast...like a lightening strike. And then I was just...here. Where you are sitting, actually. They kept me in that cell for a couple of months. And I swear, I have never felt more lonelier. Without my friends, and my family...and...and well, _him _to keep me sane...I just, forgot who I was, and what I stood for. Those things disappeared from me. I didn't want them to, but...I don't know, I guess that I didn't really care when that part of me vanished. I'm no longer a fighter, or a believer. I don't believe in anything anymore. Things that happen, well, they happen, and there's no stopping it. We're all trapped here, in this sick, twisted world that Voldemort has created. I don't understand how he can live with himself...I know he's _Voldemort_ and all, but you'd think that there's at least, the tiniest amount of guilt and pity that's buried inside of him, right?"

I stop for a moment in thought, and there's no answer from him.

I wonder what's going through his mind.

"Oh, but that's right...Voldemort isn't a human...he's a beast from the very depths of Hell. If there..._is _a Hell anymore...but, a small part of me, is sick of it. I hate living in a world where death is constantly all around me. I've seen horrible things happen to good people...and I've _heard..._"

My breathing hitches and I break off my rant.

Memories, _horrible, terrible _memories fill my mind like a full pitcher of ice-cold water being poured into a cup until it overflows.

_**A mother, and her two-year old son. She looks about 30, and she's clutching him to her chest so tightly, that I'm worried she might actually break him. They're walking towards the ballroom, with a couple of Death Eaters following behind at her heels. Voldemort's been nesting himself in there for days. After they disappear into the room and close the door, I set down the broom I had swept with, then scramble for the doorway and hide to the side. I can hear him talking...it's cold, and raspy, and unemotional, just as how it has always been.**_

_** I can only make out a few words between the two...**_

_** But he's furious. **_

_** The look on his pale, snake-like face is probably terrifying now.**_

_** "...Sorry...sick...child..."**_

_** My heart drops into my stomach when I hear one single word. Her son is terminally ill. With the worst most possible thing...cancer.**_

_** It's just one, single, simple word.**_

_** But that single word, holds a lot of hurt and destruction behind it.**_

_** I don't know if anyone in the magical world knows of the disease, but I do. I know what it means for that poor mother and her baby. And living in this kind of world, isn't going to help them in any way.**_

_** Why does God allow for these things to happen?**_

_** Maybe there is no God...**_

_** Either that, or He's abandoned us. He's smart enough to know that there's no hope for change.**_

_** I don't really blame Him. **_

_** "Doesn't...miss...consquences."**_

_** Wait, what was that?**_

_** As I press my head against the door, a horrible, scream fills the room, and my ears, before I hear a thump. And then another one.**_

_** They both hit the cement flooring, and I gasp sharply, then throw a hand over my mouth.**_

_** Emotions flood me.**_

_** I know what happened in there, but I don't want to believe it.**_

_** Utter confusion.**_

_** And sadness.**_

_** And rage.**_

_** I want to march in there, right now, yank a wand from someone's hand, and kill the bastard so quickly, that he won't know what hit him. **_

_** Then, again, I remember.**_

_** And fighting the bile rising in my throat, I don't dare do anything.**_

_** Instead, I walk backwards, away from the door, and run down the corridor, hoping to find any sort, or form, of escape. There has to be some way that I can rid myself of the scene that unfolded in that room.**_

_** Mother and son.**_

_** They're dead.**_

_...Stop._

_** Ended. Like they never were.**_

_No!_

_**Non-existant. Like Harry, the Weasley's, Ron...**_

My palms slam themselves into the cold floor and I cringe wildly, my breathing heaved and breathe hot.

"...Whoa, whoa, whoa!"

My head snaps over to look at a confused and startled Nathen. His eyes attempt to penetrate my own, but I break the gaze and swallow thickly.

"Are you alright?"

_…No._

"Yes," I'm able to breathe out, and swallow again, pushing down the last feelings of horror dow my throat while keeping my eyes on the ground between us.

"What happened? I was going to say something, then you just kind of...drifted off. And then, with your outburst..."

I nod and bring my index fingers to my temples, rubbing slow circles into them.

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry. It happens a lot. It's when I remember something...and it makes me upset."

"You seemed a bit more than upset."

I sigh, then glance up at him.

"You're right. It's more than just bothersome. They're memories...that contorted me into _this_ person. This person that...isn't strong willed or courageous anymore."

I can see him nod his head in understanding, yet, I can't help but let out a sour laugh.

"Do you know what they call me sometimes? A parasite. Something that feeds and sucks the life out of everything around it. I'm not doing anything...I'm just...there. That's what I've been told multiple times. That's...worse than being called nothing."

Warm, heavy tears fill the brims of my eyes. A second later, I brush them away and wait silently for him to respond in some way. And he does.

"I'm sorry for what they've put you through here...but, you're not a parasite. And you're not nothing either."

My eyebrows furrow together.

"Really? And how'd you come to that conclusion so easily?"

There's no pause between the ending of my question and his next statement. It's rather surprising.

"Because you're Hermione Granger."

"So? That doesn't mean anything. Not anymore, at least. Names are nothing in this world. Didn't you know that?"

Nathen shifts his weight on the ground and scoots closer to me, until I can feel his hot breath on my ear.

"That's where your wrong. See, before I came here, I was on the run. And no matter where I ended up at, your name, along with Harry Potter's, and Ron Weasley's, was always mention. You three, your names still live. Even after their deaths and your capture, many people are still inspired by you. Doesn't that count for anything?"

It's hard to believe his words. The war had ended seven years ago, and the attack on the Ministry five. They'd all been gone for at least five years, and here this boy was, telling me that people actually still talked about them? That their names were still leaving people's lips?

I want to ask him so many questions. But, unfortunately for me, the only word that pushes past my lips is a simple...

"Why?"

His voice is suddenly thick, like he's trying to fight back something.

"Why what...?"

"Why...why are we still brought up in society? There's no point in it. Nothing's going to change. The majority of people are too scared to start another rebellion, and with good reason. Have you seen the size of Voldemort's followers? It doubles by the day. It's-"

"Stop it. Just stop, alright?"

Nathen's voice is even thicker than before. It's heavy with emotion this time, and I stop mid sentence, listening to his breathing hitch a couple of times.

"Don't you know what you stood for...?"

I shrug simply, gazing absent mindedly towards the window.

"I thought I did, at one time, but ultimately...no, I don't."

Dead silence fills the room, and in that moment, I want to be in Nathen's head. Think what he is thinking, and feel what he is feeling. He had actually been out there, in the world...doing whatever it was he'd been doing. And judging by the little amounts of time I've gotten to spend with him so far, I'd say that he has a good head on his shoulders.

It's refreshing to know that there's at least one person in this damn house that wants to build me up instead of tear me down.

"Well," He starts, clearing his throat, "You all were pretty special to us...especially to the Purebloods, like myself, who knew that all of this was wrong. You three made more of an impact than you know. There's people out there, to this day, that still believe what you believe. And they're fighting."

"Don't they know the risks...?"

I see his shoulders roll against the moonlight.

"Nope. I guess your cause just won't die."

Even though I can't see his face, I can feel him smirking at me, and I smirk back before looking away quickly.

"What's your story, Nathen?"

"Just call me Nate."

I nod once, and turn around on the floor until I'm actually facing him, full profile.

"Alright then, Nate, let it out."

He chuckled lightly, then groaned, and leaned his head back.

"Well, here it goes. I-"

He stops and I hold my breath instantly. We can both hear it. Footsteps coming down the cellar stairs.

The strides become more consistent and face paced.

Without saying another word to Nate, I leap up and scramble towards the door, but I'm too late. Three figures are towering over me.

"What the _fuck _are you doing down here?"

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Not even a pathetic little whimper.

And there's no calmness or mercy in his eyes anymore.

The steel irises I had grown accustomed to were now black with rage.

The next thing I know, a dark cloak reaches around him and grabs my arm, pulling me out of the cellar. He doesn't look back at me, and neither does Nate. I can't even see Nate now...he must have moved to the corner of the cell.

And I can't hear anything anymore, no ,matter how hard I try. Draco must have cast a silencing charm on the room so I couldn't listen.

A part of me wanted to stay, and just study their ever changing expressions, but I'm really not in the mood to be cursed, so instead, I sulk back onto the ground floor and up the staircase to my room. There's green and silver streamers wrapped around the railing, but I don't really take the time to stop and study them.

My mind continues to wander as I re-enter my room, and notice a subtle, yet, stylish dress laying against my dresser. I can't tell exactly because it is so dark, but it looks shimmery...almost sequins like. Astoria had to have had it picked out for the get together tomorrow. Even though she, nor anyone in this damn house thinks of me as a part of the family, I guess I still had to look nice.

I don't know what they saw me as.

A toy? Something that they could play with and manipulate at any point of the day?

Or a trophy?

They could dress me up and set me to the side of the room, and would tell all of their friends and loved ones that they had _won _me...that I was nothing more than a prize from Voldemort himself.

The thought made me cringe, and I quickly slipped into bed, attempting to sleep.

…...

I was right. This dress is shimmery, except it's not sequins, like I thought. Instead, they're individual little silver scales that cascade down the front to the hem, which stops at the tops of my knees. The back is open slightly, with the same color of silver drenched in lace around my waist. The shoes are simply, black pumps, and other than that, everything else about me is plain. Nothing special done to my hair, no makeup, no anything.

And I'm standing here in the corner of the ballroom by myself, holding a heavy pitcher of sparkling wine.

I have to hand it to those girls who Astoria put in charge of decorating the ballroom...they did spectacular. Streamers and large pieces of green and silver cloth hang down from a number of white marble pillars stationed throughout the room, the tables are all laden with silk table clothes and dimly lit candles, the bay windows are draped with shimmering curtains, and the ceiling was charmed to look like the night sky.

There were so many people everywhere. Some were talking with others, or each other. Some were wandering over to the buffet table and getting food...and every time someone would look over at myself, I'd get a kaleidoscope of reactions. Some were normal, or dull, others had frowns painted on their faces, and then...there were some that were glaring daggers at me. This one older man who was wearing an all black suit had the balls to come up to me and whisper insults into my ear before walking away with his date.

And I just had to force back retaliation after retaliation and swallow down the bits of pride I had left, because I always reminded myself of the consequences.

Nate is nowhere to be seen.

It's just little old me in the party, tending to everyone's needs.

I hope to God he's alright.

Even though I barely knew him...he was the closest thing to a...well, maybe not quite a friend, but an...ally in a long time.

"Hey!"

I shake my head and scan the crowd for the owner of the voice.

"Girl with the wine!"

And then I find it. A women with a taut face and small eyes motions me over to her table. Quickly, I hustle over to her side and she glances at her empty class without ever saying a word. I'm able to heave the pitcher into one hand and the glass in another and fill it up, almost to the brim. I set the glass down next to her, and as I pull my arm back, she grabs it firmly, and I gasp.

She's not even look at me as she speaks.

"I'm quite bored. Do you know how to sing?"

I'm taken aback so much, that I have to wrap my fingers around a nearby chair in order not to fall over.

"What...?"

This time, she turns to look up at me with a stern, sour look on her features.

"Are you deaf, girl? I asked you if you could sing."

I don't even know what to say...

So, I sound like a damn fool when attempting to respond.

"Well...I...er...no,"

That definitely wasn't the answer she wanted to hear, because the next thing I know, she pushes me back slightly and stands up from her chair, letting her voice rise to strenuous levels.

Guests from every corner of the room slowly silenced, and a man standing not too far from the irritating women rolled his eyes.

"What is it, Eliza?"

The woman called Eliza glanced at him, then turned her gaze around the room.

"Is anyone else a little unamused? We need some kind of entertainment! And what could be better," Her voice turned into a sneer and she rotated towards me, "Than to hear the Mudblood make a fool out of herself?"

There's murmuring and a few chuckles.

"Interesting proposition."

"Yes, make her sing!"

"Go ahead, wench! Open your mouth and humor us all!"

I don't know what to do. I've never been much of a singer. Even during school, Professor Flitwick would tell me that my lack of voice was made up by my intuition.

My body stiffens a bit, and as I turn my head, I see him, pushing his way through the crowd until he's at the front, and we're eye to eye.

Grey on brown.

"What's this, then?", Draco asks.

"Oh, well, didn't you hear, Malfoy?" A man calls from his left, "The girl wants to sing us a little song."

Actually, no. No, I don't.

Draco's eyes light with an unusual amusement at that, and he smirks.

"Never knew you were a singer, Granger."

My mouth opens, but nothing productive comes out. Just brainless little half words and coughs.

"I...erm, I'm not..."

A hush waves over everyone, and suddenly, I feel like I'm being dissected...limb by limb, under my skin, nearly every part of me.

Eyes wandering, and inwardly laughs rumbling in peoples' chests.

I don't need to be told twice. The harsh smolder coming from his expression is good enough for me to know what he's silently saying. I put the pitcher down on the nearest table and rush to the center of the room, where party-goers enclose all around me.

My heart starts to beat faster. I can feel it thumping against my chest.

I don't even now what to sing.

But somehow, my brain takes over, and words start to flow from my throat...

"Carry my soul...in...into the night, may the stars...guide my way, I glory in the sight...as darkness takes the day...ferte in noctem animam meam...illustre stelle viam meam..."

And then, I just...stop.

My eyes pull themselves from the floor, and they scan the room.

Some people look blank, while others, look surprised. And then there are others, who look...bitter, maybe even angry.

I don't even realize what song I had just sang until someone erupted in a loud cheer.

"Brava! In Noctem is a hard one!"

"Oh, do shut up, Henry."

The man in the back is silenced, and all eyes are glued on me. I swallow heavily, and dare to look over at him. He looks...frozen. His emotions are unreadable, but...he's standing there, staring at me, and I don't know what to do.

It's not until Astoria pushes her way through the crowd that Draco breaks the gaze, and they both turn and walk off to another part of the room. Slowly, the guests take suit and follow them to their designated tables.

Someone from behind bumps into me, making me shift a bit to the right, but I steady, and have the sudden urge to run...to leave the room.

And so, with little notice as possible, I do. Slipping through a set of double doors, I venture into the hallway and lean up against the wall.

All these memories flood into me like a rogue wave. Suddenly, I'm back at Hogwarts...and things were as they used to be. Of course, it was never perfect, but nothing is.

But, now that I look back at it, it _was perfect _to me...especially with where I am now.

I had so many loved ones and friends that cared...I had classes that I so desperately tried my very hardest to excel in, and I had something worth defending. A school...but more than that, it was a home. I knew that I belonged there, even more than in the muggle world.

And all that was taken away before my eyes.

I want to cry, but don't.

I've tried too much lately. If it keeps up, the slightest bit of pride I have left will dwindle and fade, until it's nothing.

And that _can't _happen...

I won't let it.

They've taken every damn thing away from me, but they can't take away my pride. I don't acknowledge it much, but I still believe in myself. Why? I don't know. It's stupid really. Because, as I remind myself every moment of every day, nothing will change.

My eyes bore themselves into the wall opposite me.

I'm staring so hard, I could probably cast a silent Confringo if I really wanted to.

There's roars and applause coming from inside the ballroom.

It's odd, they've never been this loud before.

curiosity gets a hold of me and I make my way towards the double doors again, peering inside.

Instantly, a mixture of total shock, horror, and sickness washes over me. I can literally feel all the color drain from my face as my fingers latch around the doorknob.

Ginny's standing up on the platform at the front of the room.

At least, I _think _it's her...

_No. _That _is _her. I'd know that long red hair and face anywhere.

She looks horrible. Tattered, beaten, and broken.

...Why?


End file.
